


Wrapped Up In You

by highlynerdy, tehfanglyfish



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Deviates From Canon, Dresses, Getting Together, Gift Giving, Love Confessions, Love Language: Gifts, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29210880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlynerdy/pseuds/highlynerdy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehfanglyfish/pseuds/tehfanglyfish
Summary: Not long after Freya’s death, the first in a series of mysterious packages appeared in Merlin’s room. Though they all contained ornate dresses sewn from material so fine that they befitted a queen rather than a servant, his name was clearly written on the accompanying tags. Over the years, whenever Merlin faced great triumph or great tragedy, the dresses kept arriving. The sender, though, remained a mystery, until one night when Merlin learned the truth of who had given them, a revelation that led to Merlin sharing secrets of his own.Words by tehfanglyfish, art by highlynerdy
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 346
Collections: Merlin Bingo, Tavernfest Round 2: The Five Love Languages





	Wrapped Up In You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [highlynerdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlynerdy/gifts).



> This fic would not exist if the incredibly talented highlynerdy hadn't encouraged me not to let it wither in my WIP folder, where I'd abandoned it at the onset of the pandemic. Thank you, friend, for helping to pull me out of my funk with this collab. Please scroll past my words and check out her gorgeous art. She is freaking amazing!!
> 
> Thank you also to the hardworking mods behind both Tavernfest and Merlin Bingo for giving me a tiny bit more motivation as well. Y'all are awesome!
> 
> Disclaimers that shouldn't need saying:  
> 1\. I own none of these characters and do this for the love of fandom, not money.
> 
> 2\. Do not post to other sites.  
> 

“What are you doing?”

“Running an errand for Gaius.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Merlin knew there was no chance Arthur would believe him. Things between them had been going so well lately. Surely the prince wouldn’t send him to the dungeons for theft. The stocks were a different matter but…

“Right. As long as you do a decent day's work, Merlin, that's all I care about. What a man does in his spare time is completely up to him.”

Oh gods… did Arthur believe Merlin had taken the dress to wear himself?

“It’s not what you think.”

“The color suits you,” the smug prat said before sauntering off down the corridor.

Any other day, Merlin might have followed after, spinning lies all the way. Not because he believed there was anything wrong with men wearing dresses, but because Arthur would tease him for the rest of his life.

Of course, for that to happen, Merlin would have to spend his remaining days in Camelot, and he’d already made the decision to move on. Freya was waiting and he needed to hurry before she was discovered.

It was bittersweet, the thought of leaving Camelot and especially Arthur. If asked a couple of years before, Merlin would have said there was no way he’d ever lose his heart to a prince. Now… now it didn’t matter because Arthur would never return his feelings, especially if he knew Merlin’s actual secret.

A decent day’s work might excuse unconventional wardrobe choices, but never sorcery.

And so, Merlin hurried off to Freya and the future that awaited them together.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The future, as it turned out, had different plans. And was a cruel bastard.

Merlin stumbled through the next month in a haze of grief. He’d only known Freya for a short time, but there were still nights where the pain of loss was almost too much to bear.

Each day he tried his best to shove away his heartache and maintain the ruse of a bumbling servant. It wasn’t as though he could share what had happened with others.

To complicate matters, Arthur was watching him more closely than usual. Almost every time he glanced in the prince’s direction, he found piercing blue eyes staring at him.

After a few days, Arthur adjusted his chore list. Mucking the stables and walking the dogs were delegated to other servants, replaced with tasks that kept him at Arthur’s side from dawn to dusk. It was maddening, almost as though Arthur knew Merlin wanted to be alone and was actively interfering.

“Ow. What was that for?”

They had been out on an impromptu hunt when Arthur stopped at a lake to let the horses drink. Staring at the water, Merlin remembered Freya’s sendoff and had almost choked with grief when a fist connected with his shoulder.

“You looked glum. I was trying to cheer you up.”

“So you hit me?”

“It works with the knights.”

“Well, they're thick, aren't they?”

“Hey! _I’m_ a knight.”

“See? You’ve proven my point.”

He really didn’t feel like bantering and turned away. Merlin heard a sigh, then felt soft pressure, Arthur’s hand gently resting on the spot he’d punched.

“I know something’s been bothering you for a while now. I won’t pry, but if you need…” Arthur trailed off, seemingly at a loss.

“Someone to hit me?”

“Exactly. I’m here.”

There was a hint of tenderness in Arthur’s tone that Merlin hadn’t expected.

“Thanks. Should we keep looking for deer?”

“Maybe we’ll just ride today. You’re more of a girl than Morgana when it comes to hunting animals.”

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Arthur said nothing else on the matter and things returned, more or less, to normal, with a single exception.

One night, almost a week after the failed hunting trip, Merlin stumbled into his room to find an unexpected package waiting on his bed. He rarely received gifts, much less surprise ones.

Curiosity got the better of his exhaustion. Carefully, he untied the ribbon binding it and unfolded the wrapping. Inside was a dress, one that must have been expensive judging by the softness of the cloth against his fingers. None of Merlin’s clothes, not even the ones he saved for feast days, were made from anything so fine. The red fabric, which perfectly matched his neckerchief, was trimmed in gold, a combination reminiscent of the Pendragon crest.

It had to be a mistaken delivery. There was no way this was meant for Merlin. And yet, on the tag that had been attached to the ribbon binding it, was his name, clearly printed in neat script.

“Did you see who left a package in my room yesterday?” he asked Gaius the next morning over breakfast.

“No. I was out most of the afternoon completing my rounds. What was in it?”

“Something for Gwen. It was accidentally delivered to me.”

Merlin couldn’t explain why he chose to lie. Gaius might have been able to help him get the dress to its intended destination. Yet rather than trying to find the actual recipient, he found himself hiding it in the deepest corner of his cupboard.

A visiting delegation kept Arthur occupied for most of the day, but that night, as their paths crossed in a corridor, he gave Merlin a conspiratorial wink.

For the briefest of moments, Merlin wondered if the prince knew anything about the mystery parcel.

No. There was no way. Arthur couldn’t have remembered the incident with Freya’s dress. Otherwise he’d be teasing Merlin mercilessly. Not giving him a smile that made Merlin’s knees weak.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Time, as they say, marched on.

Merlin remained at Arthur’s side, his affection growing ever stronger as the years passed. While Merlin had admired Prince Arthur, the pride he felt for the accomplishments of King Arthur couldn’t be put in words. Though Uther’s death had hit Arthur hard, he was gradually coming into his own, far wiser and more compassionate than his father had ever been.

But pride and admiration were only part of what his heart held for Arthur. As their bond of friendship intensified, so did Merlin’s love for the man. And if he was also appreciative of the way that time enhanced Arthur’s beauty, well, he wasn’t alone if court gossip was any indicator.

Though he told no one, Merlin held on to the dress that had mysteriously appeared in his room, along with the others that joined it.

There was blue wool waiting when Balinor’s death left Merlin coping with another wave of grief. Green linen arrived after he delivered a baby, falling back on Gaius’s training when Arthur’s patrol found the poor mother in labor on a deserted roadside. Purple silk appeared a week after a visit to Camelot from a diplomatic delegation.

He would write them off as the product of a lazy or confused courier, were it not for the fact that the cut of each one was suited for someone of about his height, with a flatter chest and slimmer hips than most of the women at court.

Merlin couldn’t say for certain that Arthur was the one sending the dresses, but he had strong suspicions. It wasn’t as though many people other than the king could afford them, and Arthur had developed a habit of asking Merlin his opinion on women’s fashion.

His most recent inquiry took place at the feast held in honor of the diplomats whose departure preceded the arrival of the purple dress.

“What do you think of that one?” Arthur asked when Merlin leaned over to refill the wine.

“She’s very beautiful.”

Merlin tried to sound cheery though he really didn’t want to discuss the attractiveness of the unmarried noblewomen in attendance.

“Not Lady Galswinth – her dress.”

“Oh, I… the cut is a little tight for my liking, but I love the violet dye and the silver trim is exquisite.”

“Hmm,” Arthur said thoughtfully.

Was it a coincidence that the purple dress waiting for Merlin a week later had similar trim? He tried not to get his hopes up. Coincidences happened all the time and he had no definite proof that Arthur was the one leaving these unexpected gifts. Why he wanted them to be from Arthur, he wasn’t quite sure of how to explain. It wasn’t about the dresses themselves, beautiful though they were, but rather the sentiment behind them.

Each was a gift given without any expectation of recognition, silently acknowledging and accepting a presumed taboo truth about Merlin.

If they were from Arthur, then they meant he didn’t care if Merlin defied convention, violating norms and sumptuary laws in a good number of the neighboring kingdoms. And if Arthur had kept that secret for years without judgment, then perhaps he could be trusted with another.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

And so the dresses accumulated in Merlin’s cupboard. Which wasn’t to say that he forgot about them.

Sometimes his hand would slide against the fabric as he reached in to grab his clothes for the day. Every month or so, he would take them out, fingers tracing along the lace or the embroidery as he laid them on his bed, admiring the skill with which they had been sewn. He let his magic enchant away mildew, dust, and moths. They were far too precious not to protect, partially because of their beauty, but mostly because of their presumed connection to Arthur.

Usually he put them away after this ritual was complete, but occasionally, when it was too late at night to worry about anyone walking in on him, Merlin would try them on.

Had these been any other dresses, he likely wouldn’t have bothered. It wasn’t that Merlin believed there was any shame in men wearing such garments – he’d simply never been inclined to do so. Breeches were more practical for chasing after Arthur, and besides, he had his own very specific reasons for wanting to avoid undue attention.

But if these dresses came from who he thought they did, then letting the fabric cling to his body was, in its own indirect way, like being wrapped up in Arthur. And that thought had its own effect on Merlin. One that had to be urgently dealt with. Alone.

Fortunately, the late hours offered the privacy he needed, though they came at the expense of his rest.

“Everything alright?” Arthur asked one morning over breakfast. “You look as though you haven’t slept in a month.”

“Just… staying up too late studying Gaius’s medical books.”

“He couldn’t want for a better apprentice.” Arthur gave an approving nod and smiled so fondly that Merlin almost choked on his food. “You’re a wonder, Merlin. But don’t forget to take care of yourself. You know I’d be lost without you.”

After that, Merlin had to take up Gaius’s books; he’d lied to Arthur countless times when it came to his magic, but there was something about the unguarded affection in Arthur’s eyes that transformed him into the devoted student Gaius had always wanted him to be.

Dedicating himself to his studies left Merlin frustrated in more ways than one, as his evenings consumed with reading about anatomy left little time to pay attention to his own body’s need for release.

Merlin still found time to try on the dresses, occasionally slipping into one to relax after hours of studying. Sometimes exhaustion caught up with him, causing him to fall asleep before he changed back into his regular clothes. On those nights, his dreams were a confused mess of silk and muscles, the soft fabric that embraced his body transforming into Arthur’s skin. No barriers between them, just Arthur, warm and firm, enveloping him.

Magicking his sheets clean the mornings after such dreams proved easy, trying to avoid blushing in Arthur’s presence not so much.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

It was one thing to have suspicions, quite another to have them confirmed.

Merlin finally learned the truth about his mysterious benefactor almost a decade after the arrival of the first dress.

The day had been long, as Merlin had taken over Gaius’s duties while the physician, old, yes, but sharp as ever, stayed in an outlying village to care for an elderly friend who refused treatment from anyone else. 

Merlin insisted on looking after Arthur as well as completing Gaius’s rounds. Dead tired and aching from climbing endless flights of stairs to fetch the king’s meals and deliver remedies, all Merlin wanted was a hot bath when he finally made it back to his room. Since Gaius wasn’t there to chastise him, he saw no reason not to use magic to fill the tub with hot water.

Soaking in the warmth, Merlin had almost drifted off when he heard it – the loud bang of the door to the infirmary slamming against the wall. He thought he’d locked it but perhaps he’d forgotten. Regardless, that kind of force could only mean that someone needed emergency treatment.

“Just a second,” he called, jumping out of the tub.

Hastily Merlin dried off, then reached into the cupboard for something to wear.

All the while, footsteps were getting closer – whoever it was refused to wait, lifting the latch to his door as he hurried into the tunic he’d grabbed.

“Hang on. I’m almost… Arthur!” 

“No, _I’m_ Arthur. You’re… stunning.”

They looked at each other, Arthur standing frozen in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth halfway open. Why he was staring like that, Merlin couldn’t say. Then he felt the soft brush of silk against his shin.

In the rush, he hadn’t pulled on a tunic. Which meant that he was standing in front of Arthur wearing a dress. The purple one to be precise.

Before he succumbed to full-on panic, some rational part of Merlin’s brain kicked in, causing him to remember the urgency with which Arthur had entered the infirmary.

“Are you hurt or sick?”

Arthur blinked, Merlin’s words snapping him out of his stupor.

“No, I’m fine. I just wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

It wasn’t much of a reply, but it was the best Merlin could manage considering the circumstances. What did Arthur mean that he wanted to see him? Or that he was stunning? It couldn’t possibly mean what Merlin wanted it to. And yet…

“You kept them.” Arthur’s eyes wandered the length of Merlin’s body. “I had wondered.”

“Of course I kept them. They’re exquisite. And… I hoped they were from you.”

Merlin felt his face flame and looked away.

“You never said anything. I wasn’t sure if they were welcome or…”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Merlin, it’s alright. You can trust me. After keeping so many of my secrets, I’m honored that I could keep one for you. Not that it needs to be a secret. I meant what I said all those years ago. What a man gets up to in his own time is…”

“There was a girl.”

“A girl.” Arthur’s demeanor changed immediately. “Ah.”

Merlin had known him long enough to recognize the placid expression for what it was, a carefully cultivated mask meant to hide the discomfort underneath. Merlin searched Arthur’s face. Was that jealousy, or betrayal, or disappointment? Maybe all three.

“We weren’t…” Merlin tried to explain, still not sure why his mention of Freya had upset Arthur, but desperate to reassure him. “…Not like that. Not really. She was in trouble. I was trying to keep her safe.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t.”

Though many years had passed since Freya’s death, saying the words aloud caused a brief surge of raw grief.

“Which was why you were so distraught for that month,” Arthur said softly. “She must have been very special to you.”

“She was. It was strange - I’d only met her a few days before but…”

“But what?”

Arthur’s face was so earnest, his tone so gentle, that Merlin couldn’t help but tell the truth.

“There are parts of me, important parts, that I didn’t have to hide when I was with her. We were going to run off together, go somewhere we could be free. It didn’t matter to her that I…”

Merlin caught himself just before his secret slipped out.

“Were you at least going to tell me before you left?”

“There wasn’t much time and things were different then.” It wasn’t a lie. Their friendship was still developing, Uther sat on the throne, and Arthur was shouldering enough burdens without having to choose between his father and Merlin.

They stood in an uneasy silence and Merlin knew he’d said too much. His mind raced through all the plausible lies he might tell to cover the one thing he could never confess. Maybe it was because he was flustered or maybe it was the way that Arthur was looking at him, but none of the excuses he thought of seemed believable.

As much as he loved Arthur and his life in Camelot, constantly maintaining a deception was draining on a good day. Tonight, emotionally exposed and physically exhausted, Merlin was used up. And so he said nothing, waiting for Arthur to demand an answer he couldn’t give.

“Seeing as how you’ve never mentioned her before,” Arthur began, his voice catching on the words, “I’m assuming that you feel as though you have to hide things from me. Perhaps I’ve been too harsh with you over the years.”

Merlin began fidgeting with his sleeve, refusing to meet Arthur’s gaze.

“It’s not anything like that. It’s…”

“What?” Arthur caught his hand, stilling his fingers as they tugged at the silk. “I’m sure you’ve had good reasons for keeping your secret, but I give you my word that you can trust me.”

There was something steadying in the warmth of Arthur’s skin against his. Had he been wrong to guard his magic so closely all these years? Arthur had never possessed Uther’s zeal for hunting sorcerers, sometimes challenging or defying his father while the man still lived, largely ignoring the magic ban now that he sat on the throne.

But those sorcerers that Arthur failed to prosecute were unfamiliar townspeople and villagers, not someone he’d kept by his side and confided in for a third of his life.

“I can’t. It’s bad. Worse than anything you could possibly imagine.”

Even as he spoke the words, Merlin wasn’t sure if he meant the magic or the deception.

“The worst thing I can think of is that you might have run off with a girl.”

“Because you’d have to fetch your own meals?”

The unease in his voice betrayed his attempt at banter.

“Hardly,” Arthur said, squeezing Merlin’s hand. “Because I’d never see your ridiculous smile again.”

A sudden surge of butterflies in Merlin’s stomach cut through the inordinate amount of stress he felt. Arthur would miss his smile. Which meant Arthur liked his smile. Which meant that maybe…

“You’ll never want to see it again if I do tell you,” Merlin said, refusing to indulge the fantasy.

“Hush,” Arthur said, resting his free hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “I know your heart. It has no equal. So tell me. What is it you’ve been hiding? Are you the one the Druids have been gossiping about? The one they say is a secret sorcerer, the last dragonlord, and magic incarnate? Because even if any one of those things were true, none of them could change what you mean to me.”

Merlin swallowed hard and gathered all his courage.

“What if… what if they were all true?”

Arthur said nothing, searching Merlin’s eyes. The grip on his shoulder tightened, but it was not unkind.

“If they were all true,” Arthur finally began, “it would mean that I likely owe you an immense debt, one that can never be repaid. Because I can’t imagine you not using such power to keep me safe, especially since you always insist on following me head-on into danger. It would mean that you are the bravest man I’ve ever known, keeping secrets like that and staying by my side despite my father’s laws.”

Merlin was grateful for Arthur’s hand bracing his shoulder as his legs threatened to give way. Perhaps Arthur noticed, as he guided Merlin to the bed, easing him down to sit.

“And,” Arthur continued, still holding his hand, “it would mean that you’re far more gorgeous in a dress than I could possibly imagine. And believe me, I have imagined.”

“What’s that got to do with my magic?” Merlin deflected, buying a moment to collect himself and process Arthur’s words.

“Nothing, I suppose, but it is true. When I caught you in the corridor all those years ago, it wrecked me. You were all I could think about for days and my dreams were…”

A deep pink flooded Arthur’s face but he didn’t look away.

“Then not long after,” Arthur continued, “you became sad and withdrawn. I wasn’t sure of what was wrong and I didn’t know how to ask. I worried you thought I disapproved, so I asked Guinevere to sew you a new dress. She didn’t know it was for you – I wouldn’t betray your secret - but I think she suspected when I gave her details about the measurements.”

“She sewed them all, didn’t she? The stitching and embroidery are too fine to be anyone else.”

Arthur nodded. “She’s incredibly talented, and the only person I trust with such delicate orders.”

Merlin felt his own face flush. It wasn’t that he cared if Gwen knew; she was one of his best friends and extremely kind. There was no danger of her judging him. He wouldn’t even say that it was full embarrassment he was feeling, more of a slight unease from having a third person aware of the intimate connection he’d shared with Arthur over the years. As if Gwen somehow knew where he and Arthur were heading before even they did.

“I had hoped they would make you feel better,” Arthur explained, “but now that I know the true reason you were stealing one, I suppose…”

“They did. They do. I admit that I’d never worn a dress before the first one arrived. I probably wouldn’t have tried it on if I hadn’t suspected you were the sender. Even now I don’t know that I’ll ever wear one in public, but when I’m alone…”

“Do you wear them often?”

“Yes,” Merlin confessed. “I like how the fabric falls – they’re far less constricting than breeches.”

“And that’s the only reason? They’re comfortable?”

“Well… I like how I look in them.” Merlin blushed and stared at the floor.

“As do I,” Arthur said, his voice heavy.

Merlin considered how to respond. If this was a night for letting secrets spill, why not release them all?

“But what I like most about them, is that every time I wear one, it feels as though I’m wrapped up in you.”

“Oh.”

If they hadn’t been sitting so close, Merlin would have missed Arthur’s tiny sigh. He said nothing, waiting for Arthur to continue. The grip on his hand tightened, but Arthur remained silent, leaving Merlin wondering if he’d somehow misread what just a few moments before had seemed like obvious signs.

As Merlin tried to remain calm, he let his eyes dart to Arthur’s face. Jaw locked and gaze focused straight ahead, Merlin knew that look. Anyone else, anyone who hadn’t spent a decade of their life by Arthur’s side, witnessing him at his very best and absolute worst, would find his expression true neutral, unreadable.

But Merlin recognized it and understood what it meant – Arthur was fighting his own internal battle, the one that had played out so many times before when his heart pulled him away from the rigid structure of tradition and expectation. Just as he’d done so many times in the past, Merlin kept his place at Arthur’s side, not to sway or influence him, but to let him know that no matter what he decided, he wasn’t alone.

“The thing is,” Arthur finally said, “I always thought of them in the same way. I didn’t know what you were doing with them, but I hoped you put them on so that some part of me would be able to hold you.”

Gods, they’d been fools. All that time Merlin had longed for Arthur, Arthur had been doing the same for him. If they’d only been braver sooner, they could’ve had years of…

No, Merlin decided, there were already too many regrets in the world. They’d both had their reasons, good ones, for keeping secrets, especially when Uther had been alive. Besides, they now shared a stronger bond than in the past. And it wasn’t as though Arthur’s efforts had been in vain.

“You should know,” Merlin began slowly, choosing his words with care, “that the feeling of you being with me, it made some of my worst nights bearable.”

Arthur dropped his hand, leaving Merlin immediately missing the contact. Then the strong arms he’d dreamt about countless nights wrapped around him, pulling him so close he was almost sitting in Arthur’s lap. Without thinking, he hugged Arthur back, relaxing into him, savoring how perfectly they fit together.

“I hope,” Arthur said quietly, “that your worst nights are behind you. But just in case they’re not, you should know that you never have to face them alone again.”

The words themselves, the soft tenderness in Arthur’s tone – it was almost too much for Merlin to bear. Overwhelmed with complicated emotions he wasn’t quite sure of how to express, Merlin pressed his lips against Arthur’s neck.

By any measure it was a chaste kiss, and yet he could feel Arthur shiver in his arms, hear him gasp at the contact. Then it was Merlin’s turn to tremor as Arthur’s lips found his.

It was like something out of one of his most indulgent fantasies, both tender and possessive, full of love and longing and desire. What else could Merlin do but let himself get lost in the hungry kisses, the solid body gently pressing him down on the bed, and the smooth silk still hugging his skin?

Arthur’s kisses were their own form of magic. Maybe not arcane, but still spellbinding, with the power to cast off the worry Merlin had grown so accustomed to carrying. He didn’t realize it was gone until it melted at Arthur’s touch, the burden of destiny fading along with it. Merlin was by no means old, but keeping Arthur safe, concealing the magic that was such an intrinsic part of himself, and guarding his heart had left Merlin feeling used up, a shell of who he’d once been.

But now, with Arthur’s hot mouth claiming his lips, solid weight pinning him to the bed, desperate fingers threaded through his, it was as if Merlin was coming back to life, the deluge of Arthur restoring him, reviving a long-neglected part of his soul withered from the drought of denial and deception.

The surge of relief and love and joy proved too much to contain.

“What are you laughing at? Have I done something amusing?” Arthur scowled but the fondness in his eyes betrayed his feigned annoyance.

“It’s not that. It’s just… I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

“Good,” Arthur said, tracing a finger along his jawline. “All I want is to make you happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, really. I know I’ve given you ten kinds of hell, but I’d gladly renounce the throne to make you smile.”

“Don’t do that. You wouldn’t last a day without a support staff,” Merlin teased, falling back on banter to steady himself under the weight of Arthur’s words.

“Oi! I can take care of myself.”

“You’d be lost.”

“Only if you weren’t there. Castle or hovel, it doesn’t matter. Hell, make it a cave. My home is wherever you are.”

Eyes locked on Arthur’s, Merlin found it impossible to speak.

“Although,” Arthur continued, “right now, it’s not me you should be worried about, but your dress.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, yet. But I fear that harm may come to it if we don’t return it to your cupboard soon. It looks gorgeous on you, but right now I’d much rather see you out of it. If,” Arthur said, suddenly shy, “that’s something you’d like.”

It probably wouldn’t have been as clumsy and complicated of a process to get them both undressed if Merlin had been willing to stop kissing Arthur, but that was something he refused to do. Fortunately, magic proved helpful.

For years Merlin had imagined being wrapped up in Arthur, skin against skin, not even silk separating them. Lying under Arthur, lost in tangled limbs, frantic thrusts, and desperate whimpers soon revealed that his fantasies, intricate as they might have been, didn’t come close to the real thing. Which was fine. Because Arthur managed to gasp out a question regarding how they might spend the rest of their nights and the rest of their lives. And Merlin did his best to reassure Arthur that his answer was yes.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

It was odd how, after a lifetime of hiding, Merlin easily adjusted to so many aspects of his life becoming very public in an extremely short amount of time.

Yes, he’d spent the past decade at Arthur’s side, but the court sorcerer received far more attention than the king’s personal servant. The people of Camelot had a fair amount to say about his new role, as well as the stunning silk robes that Arthur insisted were required for the position.

Public interest in Merlin’s professional role paled in comparison to the intrigue surrounding his personal life.

“There’ve been more than enough secrets,” Arthur told him the morning after their first night together. “I refuse to hide or lie about us as if I’m ashamed.”

By the time they’d wandered to the kitchens to find breakfast, word had already spread outside the castle walls that they’d been walking hand in hand. Conspicuous kisses confirmed the rumors that had been swirling for years, and while a few traditionalists were scandalized by Arthur’s tendency to pull Merlin into his lap while sitting on the throne, most of the people found it endearing.

“Uther Pendragon would never have allowed such a shameless display,” an old nobleman muttered the first time Arthur had done it. “That peasant sorcerer…”

“Is my intended,” Arthur snapped, arms still wrapped around Merlin’s waist. “And Uther Pendragon no longer has any authority here.”

After that incident, hardly a day passed where Merlin didn’t find himself kissed senseless in public. Not that he was complaining.

Of course, there were some parts of Merlin’s life that remained private. The people didn’t need to hear the tender words Arthur saved for him when they were alone in their chambers, or find out what they got up to in the bed they now shared.

And if their wardrobe contained a collection of fine dresses that would make a queen jealous, well, that was their own business. Merlin’s days might be spent wearing his new robes in public, but the dresses were for Arthur alone.


End file.
